The Pledge
Page 48
She could feel the current of her own power tingling from the tips of her fingers and stretching toward him, wrapping around his throat like a taut ribbon of electrical wire.
The boy’s body went suddenly rigid, every muscle contracting as he struggl J th ` from ted for air. His hands clawed at his neck as his eyes rolled back in his head. His fingers dug into his flesh as if they could excavate an opening through which he could breathe. He had no idea what he was up against.
His queen watched dispassionately, unimpressed by his display of self-preservation and momentarily exhilarated by her demonstration of power.
The boy was a fool. He would rather die than confess the names of his friends? He would sacrifice himself to protect those who stood against his queen? A fool and a collaborator.
At last, when she was sure he’d learned his lesson, she closed her eyes and dropped her hand, releasing him. She settled back against her throne as she struggled to hide her exhaustion.
The boy’s loud gasp filled the room, followed by a second and a third. Fresh blood seeped from the nail marks he’d left along the length of his own throat when he’d fought to break free from her invisible grip.
“Take him away,” she finally commanded, turning her head as if unable to look upon him any longer. “Tell them to get the information I require. At any cost.”
MAX
Max didn’t blink, but it took every ounce of resolve to remain still as he watched. He understood the need to maintain order, but he could never approve of the way in which his grandmother—his queen—went about her business. How could she justify this kind of torture?
Beside him, Claude and Zafir stood just as motionless. It would do none of them any good to interfere.
However, it wasn’t the boy who held Max’s attention as the queen took her throne once more, releasing the boy from her spell. It was she who he studied from beneath his lowered gaze.
She was still powerful; she’d just proven that, still as potent as ever. But a display like that used up valuable energy, and observing her, Max wasn’t sure it was energy she had to spare.
She was far too old for such shows of strength. Even if no one else noticed, he could see that she was fading right before their eyes.
Guards lifted the boy from his place on the ground, a man taking position on either side of him, and Max inwardly cringed as he caught the barest glimpse of the boy’s ravaged face. Not for the first time in his life, he w
as grateful that he’d been born a male and that the duties of ruling Ludania would never fall on his shoulders.
As he was being dragged away, the boy raised his head, only slightly, but it was enough. He saw Max. And Max recognized him almost immediately, making his pulse hammer in warning. He knew how badly this could end.
If only they’d been alone, Max would have cautioned the boy, would have warned him to remain quiet, to keep his words to himself.
But they weren’t.
And the queen—along with everyone else in the room—heard the boy’s accusations as he realized where he’d seen Max before.
“Where’s Charlie?!” Aron screamed as he struggled against his guards, straining to break J th a frll as#8212 free from his captors, never even realizing that he’d just given the queen what she wanted: a name. “Is she here, you son of a bitch? What have you done with Charlie?”
XIII
“You can’t win,” I explained, even though I had no idea if what I spoke was the truth. But it made sense; he was talking about defeating an army.
“We can, and we will,” Xander insisted, his metallic eyes flashing. “Sabara has spent too much of her energy fighting us in inconsequential conflicts; she never even realized we were enlisting help from outside the borders. Now it’s too late. There are many queens who’d like to see Sabara’s rule end. We’re strong, Charlie, much stronger than she knows.”
I still didn’t understand, there was so much to process, and my mind was elsewhere, consumed by worries and fears. “How could you harm your own people? How could you attack the city like that?”
Xander’s face crumpled, and I felt his guard slip. I had no idea why he was so quick to reveal his secrets to me. “We were as careful as we could be, but violence can’t always be avoided. The places we bombed, the buildings we set on fire, were strategic for the most part. They were military installations and checkpoints. We stayed as far as we could from the shelters and didn’t start striking the neighborhoods until well after the sirens should have cleared everyone out.”
“And if they didn’t? If there were still people in their homes?” I tried not to imagine my parents as I asked the questions.
His finger absently drifted over his whiskered cheek, following the pale line of his scar. “I hope that there weren’t.” It wasn’t an adequate answer, and we both knew it.
“I need to go back. I need to make sure that my family is safe. And my friend . . . I couldn’t find her at the park. . . .” I had no idea if Brooklynn had made it to a shelter, and my skin crawled with regret.
Xander didn’t respond in the way I’d expected. His defenses went back up, his guarded expression slipped back into place. “Are you talking about Brooklynn?” he asked, stealing my breath and making it hard for me to swallow.
He knew her name.
I nodded, blinking once, twice, and then again. I remembered meeting Xander, that night in the club. He’d known my name then; I shouldn’t be surprised that he knew Brook’s as well.
The boy’s body went suddenly rigid, every muscle contracting as he struggl J th ` from ted for air. His hands clawed at his neck as his eyes rolled back in his head. His fingers dug into his flesh as if they could excavate an opening through which he could breathe. He had no idea what he was up against.
His queen watched dispassionately, unimpressed by his display of self-preservation and momentarily exhilarated by her demonstration of power.
The boy was a fool. He would rather die than confess the names of his friends? He would sacrifice himself to protect those who stood against his queen? A fool and a collaborator.
At last, when she was sure he’d learned his lesson, she closed her eyes and dropped her hand, releasing him. She settled back against her throne as she struggled to hide her exhaustion.
The boy’s loud gasp filled the room, followed by a second and a third. Fresh blood seeped from the nail marks he’d left along the length of his own throat when he’d fought to break free from her invisible grip.
“Take him away,” she finally commanded, turning her head as if unable to look upon him any longer. “Tell them to get the information I require. At any cost.”
MAX
Max didn’t blink, but it took every ounce of resolve to remain still as he watched. He understood the need to maintain order, but he could never approve of the way in which his grandmother—his queen—went about her business. How could she justify this kind of torture?
Beside him, Claude and Zafir stood just as motionless. It would do none of them any good to interfere.
However, it wasn’t the boy who held Max’s attention as the queen took her throne once more, releasing the boy from her spell. It was she who he studied from beneath his lowered gaze.
She was still powerful; she’d just proven that, still as potent as ever. But a display like that used up valuable energy, and observing her, Max wasn’t sure it was energy she had to spare.
She was far too old for such shows of strength. Even if no one else noticed, he could see that she was fading right before their eyes.
Guards lifted the boy from his place on the ground, a man taking position on either side of him, and Max inwardly cringed as he caught the barest glimpse of the boy’s ravaged face. Not for the first time in his life, he w
as grateful that he’d been born a male and that the duties of ruling Ludania would never fall on his shoulders.
As he was being dragged away, the boy raised his head, only slightly, but it was enough. He saw Max. And Max recognized him almost immediately, making his pulse hammer in warning. He knew how badly this could end.
If only they’d been alone, Max would have cautioned the boy, would have warned him to remain quiet, to keep his words to himself.
But they weren’t.
And the queen—along with everyone else in the room—heard the boy’s accusations as he realized where he’d seen Max before.
“Where’s Charlie?!” Aron screamed as he struggled against his guards, straining to break J th a frll as#8212 free from his captors, never even realizing that he’d just given the queen what she wanted: a name. “Is she here, you son of a bitch? What have you done with Charlie?”
XIII
“You can’t win,” I explained, even though I had no idea if what I spoke was the truth. But it made sense; he was talking about defeating an army.
“We can, and we will,” Xander insisted, his metallic eyes flashing. “Sabara has spent too much of her energy fighting us in inconsequential conflicts; she never even realized we were enlisting help from outside the borders. Now it’s too late. There are many queens who’d like to see Sabara’s rule end. We’re strong, Charlie, much stronger than she knows.”
I still didn’t understand, there was so much to process, and my mind was elsewhere, consumed by worries and fears. “How could you harm your own people? How could you attack the city like that?”
Xander’s face crumpled, and I felt his guard slip. I had no idea why he was so quick to reveal his secrets to me. “We were as careful as we could be, but violence can’t always be avoided. The places we bombed, the buildings we set on fire, were strategic for the most part. They were military installations and checkpoints. We stayed as far as we could from the shelters and didn’t start striking the neighborhoods until well after the sirens should have cleared everyone out.”
“And if they didn’t? If there were still people in their homes?” I tried not to imagine my parents as I asked the questions.
His finger absently drifted over his whiskered cheek, following the pale line of his scar. “I hope that there weren’t.” It wasn’t an adequate answer, and we both knew it.
“I need to go back. I need to make sure that my family is safe. And my friend . . . I couldn’t find her at the park. . . .” I had no idea if Brooklynn had made it to a shelter, and my skin crawled with regret.
Xander didn’t respond in the way I’d expected. His defenses went back up, his guarded expression slipped back into place. “Are you talking about Brooklynn?” he asked, stealing my breath and making it hard for me to swallow.
He knew her name.
I nodded, blinking once, twice, and then again. I remembered meeting Xander, that night in the club. He’d known my name then; I shouldn’t be surprised that he knew Brook’s as well.
